Forsaken: The Chosen Trilogy - Book One

Chapter Six: Part Two

LANYA

12 Cuna 574A.F.

Alyxen had revealed a surprising talent for fixing broken things, in between the stories he told, and soon had taken over all repairs around our neglected farm. While Brannyn and Reyce tended to the fields and Kylee saw to our dwindling number of animals, Alyxen busied himself with mending everything, from the worn-out farming equipment to the failing water pump. We grew accustomed to the sounds of both hammering and his clever curses, so that it was nearly a melody we had all learned to ignore.

I was washing laundry the day he decided at last to tackle the leak in our roof, scrambling atop the ancient, cedar shingles like a sure-footed mountain goat. I hummed quietly to myself as I draped wet, heavy sheets across the line. I did not notice when the hammering stopped, barely heard my brother's faint cry as he slipped on the slick eaves. But I knew he had fallen when the pain slammed into me and stole my breath.

Alyxen.

The clothespins dropped unnoticed from my hands as I ran to the side of the house where he had fallen, my heart thundering in my chest. He was struggling to sit up, his face white as death with shock, his left arm dangling, bent unnaturally. I dropped to my knees beside him, my heart caught in my throat.

I do not know what possessed me to call for Kryssa, save that she was our beacon, our safeguard against fear. I reached out to her- and found her, irritated for some reason, her thoughts filled with lemon wax and beautiful sky-blue eyes.

Alyxen's hurt. My panic burst out of me like a flood, and I was helpless to stop it. I don't know what to do.

The sky-blue eyes were replaced in an instant with a bone-shattering calm, and I heard her, somehow, like an indigo wave within my mind. I'm coming.

Brannyn appeared beside me, his face set in determined lines. Without speaking, he gently lifted our brother, careful of his broken arm, and carried him inside the house. I followed, wringing my hands. It was not until Kylee and Reyce met me at the door, the blind terror in their eyes cutting through my own, that I was at last able to think again.

Our father had hidden a heavy bottle of whiskey beneath his bed a year before and promptly forgotten about it. I asked Kylee to fetch it, and sent Reyce to the woods to find two of the straightest sticks he could for setting the arm. The bottle was dusty, and I hurriedly cleaned it with my skirt before pouring a healthy swig down Alyxen's throat.

I held him down as Brannyn set the arm, pulling sharply on the break until the bone was straight; though I tried to take as much of his pain as I could, he still screamed, and fainted. I wiped cold sweat from my forehead, grateful for a respite from his agony.

Reyce returned with the sticks at last, and I tied them to my brother's broken arm with strips of rags. I left Kylee to watch worriedly over her twin as I staggered outside with Brannyn, Reyce trailing silently behind us as I sat heavily upon the steps that led to our door.

I found I was still clutching the whiskey bottle, and took a large gulp, gasping as the fire of it burned away the ice in my veins. The warm breeze dried my fear-sweat, and slowly the nerves and anxiety inside me eased. I offered the bottle to Brannyn, and he sipped from it, making a face as he handed it back.

Kryssa arrived at a gallop, throwing herself from the wild-eyed Renic before he had even stopped. I tried to reassure her, but Brannyn shook his head at me as she brushed past, hurrying inside to check on Alyxen. Reyce sighed and went to care for Renic, who stood where she had left him, sweating and breathing like a bellows.

She emerged again after several minutes, and sat beside me on the steps. I handed her the whiskey wordlessly, and she took a long pull from it before returning it to me.

We stared off across the fields for long minutes, unsure of what to say to each other.

Brannyn finally stood, restless, and broke the silence. "You heard her."

The words were meant for Kryssa, and she nodded. For a moment, I could sense the worry and confusion swirling within her, and took another gulp of the whiskey.

"We all heard her." He leaned against a post holding up our roof, his gaze flickering between me and my sister. I gasped; I had not realized the others had heard me when I had reached for her. "What does it mean?"

I thought of the ease with which I'd touched my sister's mind, reading her thoughts of sky-colored eyes. If she reached for me, what would she find? Would she be able to see my secret?

"We can't let our minds spill into each other's carelessly," Kryssa said slowly, voicing my concern. A shadow passed behind her brilliant green eyes, and I realized with astonishment that my sister had her own secrets that she did not wish to share. I had been fortunate she had not been thinking of them when I had so recklessly entered her mind.

"Shields," I blurted, and blushed when they both looked at me, the whiskey merrily dancing through my blood. "We need to learn to block each other out."

They nodded, and so it was agreed.

We practiced each night before bed, talking to each other only in our minds, learning how to focus our thoughts so that we shared only what we wanted with each other, keeping our secrets to ourselves. We quickly became proficient, able to find each other and talk to just one, despite the distance between us. We learned to create shields, blocking each other out, and found that our gift was useless when we were asleep, like a blank wall that we could not penetrate. I think that was a blessing- surely I had no wish to inflict my nightmares upon the others.

It is hard to explain to others this method of communicating between us. It is not so much a voice, but a color and a presence, accompanied by a series of emotions and images. Mine, the others told me, was like a golden light in their minds, and they found me serene and calming. Kylee was vibrant green and wild, Alyxen silver and unyielding. Brannyn was brilliant red and burning, his thoughts often accompanied by the fury he tried so hard to keep buried. Reyce, oddly, was white, nearly blinding, his presence like an ache that pressed against the back of my eyes; in time, he learned to control it better, so that it did not cause the rest of us so much pain.

Kryssa was the hardest to describe, and I looked at her helplessly when she asked me, unsure what to say.

Brannyn saved me, staring at her with dark eyes as he answered. "You're blue, Kryssa. Deep as the sea, and filled with all the rage and calm of it."

It was not until much later that I realized how strange the comparison was for children that had never seen the ocean.